


When Life Gives You Lemons

by supergrover24



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-06
Updated: 2009-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:44:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supergrover24/pseuds/supergrover24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just your basic outdoor sex on a couch with ice cubes. Written for the kink bingo square <i>temperature play</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Life Gives You Lemons

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [](http://femmequixotic.livejournal.com/profile)[**femmequixotic**](http://femmequixotic.livejournal.com/) and [](http://disarm-d.livejournal.com/profile)[**disarm_d**](http://disarm-d.livejournal.com/) for the beta. If only I'd posted this last night before the band split up. At least the pairing is still possible? :D? Nah. D:

Jon stares at the canopy of tree branches that hang over the couch in Ryan's backyard. Sunlight filters through the leaves and creates a geometric pattern along the length of his body where he lies, t-shirt off and underneath his head to provide a bit of a cushion. The warmth of the sun soaks through his black shorts and he's tempted to take them off but it requires too much effort.

A warm breeze rustles the leaves above, changing the patterns on his skin. He thinks about getting his camera, but it's still over on the chair across the yard, and he really doesn't feel like moving. Jon settles for closing his eyes and watching the colors dance across the back of his eyelids.

He's not sure how much time had passed when he feels cold drops of water hitting his overheated skin, trailing down his sternum toward his belly button. It hadn't looked at all like rain, and it's LA in August, so that only means one thing.

"Ryan," he says, not opening his eyes. "What are you dripping on me?"

"Sorry," Ryan mumbles around a mouthful of something.

Jon opens his eyes and quickly shuts them against the brightness of the sun. "What's up?"

"I made lemonade."

Jon hears the clink of ice in the glass, the slurping sound Ryan makes as he sucks some into his mouth to chew. More condensation slides off Ryan's glass onto Jon's stomach and his ab muscles jump at the sensation.

"Did you want some?" Ryan asks, crunching on ice.

Jon props himself up on his elbows and squints up at Ryan, shaking his head to dislodge the hair hanging limply on his forehead. "You only have one glass," he points out.

"I can share." Ryan shrugs. "Here."

Ryan bends at the waist and tips the glass to Jon's lips. It works surprisingly well, considering Jon is still out of it and Ryan has an unlit, half-smoked joint in between the fingers wrapped around the glass. Jon takes a few shallow sips and grunts to let Ryan know to stop.

"Thanks," Jon smiles and licks his lips. Ryan's eyes follow the movement of his tongue, and Jon wonders if today will finally be the day they stop dancing around the growing awareness of each other and _do_ something about it.

He wonders if he can make that something happen.

Ryan blinks and straightens, fidgeting with the hem of his too tight t-shirt and he lifts the glass to his mouth. Jon watches as Ryan's lips touch the glass in the same spot where his own just were, but is quickly distracted by the movement of Ryan's throat.

The tip of Ryan's tongue snakes out as he tips the glass higher, catching a few ice cubes to suck into his mouth. Jon can't stop watching, would normally have glanced away by now, but he thinks maybe the sun has gone to his head. Ryan is returning his gaze, half-lidded and daring.

Yes, Jon reflects, after weeks of missteps, today is the day he and Ryan will finally act on this thing between them.

"Y'know," Jon says lazily, collapsing back, "they say that chewing ice is a sign of sexual frustration."

"Oh?" Ryan bites hard, the crunch loud in the otherwise silent backyard.

"Yeah." Jon takes a deep breath and holds it, purposely contracting his muscles, even if he feels like a bit of an idiot for preening. He exhales. "So, are you?"

"Am I what?" Ryan shifts, blocking the sunlight and holds the glass over Jon's torso with a smirk.

"Fuck," Jon gasps out, the cold drops of condensation hitting his chest. "You're a jerk."

"Oh, so you don't care about the answer to your question?" Ryan moves to walk away and Jon reaches out, grabbing onto his linen pants.

"I didn't say that."

Ryan smirks again, and leans over Jon to set the joint in the ashtray balanced precariously on the back of the couch. Jon loosens his grip on Ryan's pants and runs his hand along the fabric, liking the feel of it on his fingers. Ryan straightens back up and looks over Jon from head to toe.

"You're a couch hog, you know. A proper gentleman would've made room for me to sit by now."

Jon laughs. "Pretty sure neither of us are proper. But." He shifts, bending his left leg so it presses against the back of the couch and lets his right foot settle on the grass. "There. You're tiny, you can fit in there."

"Did you mean that as a dirty insult?" Ryan doesn't wait for his answer but crawls over to kneel between Jon's legs, his knees settled close to Jon's thighs and sits back on his heels. He blinks innocently up at Jon as he sets his glass just above the waistband of Jon's shorts. "Not all of me is tiny."

"Oh?"

"So I've been told," Ryan says. He picks up the glass, leaving a ring of water on Jon's skin, matting the hair into little curls. He takes a long swallow, draining the glass of lemonade, leaving behind crushed ice cubes and a lemon slice. Ryan carefully fishes the slice out of the glass and tosses it to the ground before placing the glass back on Jon's stomach.

Ryan leaves his hand wrapped around the base of the glass, his pinkie against Jon's skin. Jon wonders if Ryan can feel his stomach jump every time Ryan adjusts his grip.

"Is it the cold that's making you jump? Or is it me?"

"Um. Both?" Jon sucks in a breath when Ryan deliberately moves his hand so his palm is pressing down all on his stomach, slightly warmer than the glass it supports.

"Interesting."

Ryan leans back fully, taking the glass with him. Jon whimpers at the loss, he admits that to himself. They've come this far, and he'll be really bummed if it doesn't go any farther.

"Ryan," Jon says, desperate.

"Shh," Ryan replies. "I've got this."

Ryan taps Jon's left hip and Jon moves, unsure of what he's supposed to be doing when Ryan pushes up on to his knees. Jon can see the soft bulge of Ryan's cock and suddenly realizes that Ryan's not wearing underwear. He watches dumbly as Ryan manages to rearrange Jon's legs just enough that Ryan can straddle Jon's lap.

Jon blinks up at him as Ryan shifts—more than is necessary Jon thinks, not that he's complaining—but Jon's cock is just two layers of cloth from Ryan's and it's not exactly ignoring the situation. Finally, Jon comes to his senses and clamps his hands on Ryan's hips, stilling him. Ryan raises an eyebrow calmly and sets the back on Jon's sternum. Jon bucks up, his dick twitching under Ryan's ass and Ryan, the bastard, just lowers his weight more fully to push Jon back down on the couch.

They're not talking, and Jon finds he doesn't really know what to say. _I'm glad we're finally going to fuck!_ doesn't seem right somehow. Instead, they stare at each other for about half a minute before Ryan bends over, planting his left hand on the couch next to Jon's head. He slides the glass up Jon's skin to his shoulder and before Jon can decide if the goosebumps that rise up are from the cool moisture or from anticipation, Ryan lowers his head and they're kissing.

They're _kissing_ , Jon realizes. Ryan's tongue is slightly cool against his, but strong though, and their mouths are open wide and it's not a gentle first kiss by any means. It's dirty and wet, and Ryan is in control, his tongue overpowering Jon's attempts to push past his own lips into Ryan's mouth. Ryan's hand moves from the couch to the top of Jon's head, and Jon raises his hips into Ryan's at the feel of fingers tangling in his hair. Ryan squirms and Jon's dick brushes against Ryan's balls through their clothing and it's so fucking hot that Jon moans shamelessly into the kiss.

Ryan breaks away long enough to mutter a quick "Yeah?" and Jon knows it's a question not just about this kiss, but about what's next, on and off the couch. He nods frantically, eyes meeting Ryan's in a steady gaze, and Jon hopes he's conveying that this is good, he wants it, he doesn't think it's too much of a risk. Jon must have gotten the point across because Ryan smiles then, a real one, right before he pushes up and away from Jon's chest to sit up straight.

"What?" Jon tries to follow him, to sit up, but Ryan plants a hand firmly on Jon's chest and the fucker is surprisingly strong. "Ryan, I thought we were good here."

"You're good down there." Ryan presses his hips down gently. "I'm good up here. I like the view."

Jon rolls his eyes, hoping that his beard hides the blush he can feel creeping across his cheeks.

"Just," Ryan sighs. "I want to try something, okay?" He sounds a little unsure and Jon isn't nervous, exactly, but at this moment he really can't think of anything that Ryan would want to do that Jon would say no to.

"Anything, just don't stop." Jon will beg if he has to. Ryan would probably like that.

Ryan laughs, a soft sort of chuckle and snort combined. "Trust me; I have no intentions of stopping."

Jon would believe him, but instead of touching him, Ryan tips the glass up again, ice tinkling against the sides as he sucks some into his mouth.

"Dude, if you're really that frustrated I've got something you can suck ri—" Jon's sarcastic comment trails off into a gasp that turns into a moan. Ryan bends over again, pressing the glass against Jon's shoulder, and sucks on Jon's left nipple and a piece of ice at the same time.

Jon doesn't know whether to try to squirm away or to hold Ryan's head in place. He compromises by gripping the couch with his hands, the left knocking the ashtray off the back of the couch to the ground with a dull thump.

"Sorry!"

Ryan bites Jon's nipple—in response or retaliation, Jon isn't sure which, but the effect is the same—Jon bucks his hips up, hard; while he pulls Ryan up by his hair to kiss again. Jon takes advantage of Ryan's surprise and forces his way into Ryan's mouth, chasing the coolness of the melted ice cube, before he sucks on Ryan's tongue. Ryan makes a sound low in his throat, maybe a groan or a growl, and Jon knows then Ryan's used to being in control.

Jon's a nice guy, however. He'll give up control in just a little bit. First, though, he runs his tongue along the inside of Ryan's full lower lip before he bites it sharply. He's wanted to do that for so long and the way Ryan squeezes his legs around Jon's hips makes him think he could get away with a lot more.

Ryan twists his head away with a gasp, leaving Jon to kiss along Ryan's temple down toward his ear, his jaw, aiming for his mouth again before Ryan pushes back upright.

"Stop distracting me," Ryan says.

"From what?" Jon asks, confused.

Ryan has apparently decided that sucking the ice out of the glass wastes time or makes it melt too fast or _something_ , because he's tipping the glass over Jon's chest and shaking it until a cube hits him with a thump.

Jon should really tell Ryan to stop interrupting him with ice, cold and wet on his skin, but he can roll with it for now.

Ryan shifts the glass to his left hand and drags the ice cube up the center of Jon's chest slowly. Jon shivers, wondering when his skin got so sensitive, why he's never thought to try this before. Ryan holds the rapidly melting cube over Jon's right nipple, until it's so hard that Jon's afraid it might break off and when Ryan licks him, Jon's shocked by the heat of his tongue.

"Oh God, fuck, Ryan." Jon is reduced to muttering and it normally takes him so much longer to get to this point. He wraps his hands around Ryan's hips again and pulls him down as he pushes up, desperate for friction. Ryan's hard and thick, curving to the left in his flimsy linen pants, and Jon's shifts them both just enough to slide his cock next to Ryan's through the cloth.

Another tip of the glass and the last big cube tumbles out and lands on his breastbone. Jon closes his eyes and feels Ryan slide it up Jon's chest, circling his clavicle and leaving a wet trail up his throat and over his Adam's apple that Ryan follows with his tongue until finally they're kissing again. Ryan's fucking his mouth in time with the movement of his hips against Jon's, and it's brilliant, and Jon opens for Ryan, completely shameless.

Ryan pulls back, though, sits up _again_ , and Jon just might beg, but Ryan looks like he's right on the edge with Jon, and instead Jon whimpers and twists his hips slightly.

Ryan tips the glass again and the last few tiny pieces of ice and a lot of cold water drips into Jon's belly button. Jon lets out a gasp and Ryan moans, finally, dropping the glass to ground before he props himself over Jon with his left hand and shoves Jon's waistband down with his right.

Jon is totally on board with this plan and fumbles with the drawstring of Ryan's pants until he can pull them down enough for the head of Ryan's cock to pop out. He reaches for it, but Ryan bats his hand away with a sharp, "No, let me!"

Jon returns his hands to Ryan's waist, stares as Ryan swipes his hand through the water on Jon's stomach, and wraps his long fingers around both their cocks at the same time.

"Oh, Christ," Jon says. "Your fingers, God." He holds Ryan tight as he thrusts up, moving them through Ryan's fist.

Ryan lets out a breathy laugh, rocking above him. "I've thought about yours," Ryan says. "how thick they are, how they'd feel in my ass."

"Shit," Jon says. He's moving faster, pushing up as Ryan pushes down, the tips of their cocks rubbing against each other.

"Yeah." Ryan bends his head and captures Jon's mouth in another kiss, sloppy this time, neither one in control, their mouths open and tongues sliding together.

Jon feels it building inside him, low in his gut, and he squeezes Ryan's hips tight in warning just as Ryan lets out a broken moan and comes over his fist and Jon's cock and stomach. That's all it takes, the hot splash of come on his skin and he's done, groaning Ryan's name loudly as his body goes tense.

Ryan moves his hand up and down the length of them once or twice before letting go and collapsing on top of Jon with a groan.

"My pants are ruined," Ryan says.

"You have three other pairs just like those." Jon will not take the blame for Ryan's pants. "You should've just gotten undressed."

"Outside?"

"Ryan, we just had sex in your backyard. You can be naked back here." Jon closes his eyes and runs his fingertips over the swell of Ryan's ass. Ryan sighs and shifts so his head is on Jon's shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess," Ryan finally says. "Next time."

"Mmhm," Jon replies. "Next time."


End file.
